


Utterly ridiculous and in love

by pxnky



Series: FE3H Modern AU [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Kissing, Listen this is just an excuse to write Ashepar smut, Love Confessions, M/M, Neck Kissing, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24127459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxnky/pseuds/pxnky
Summary: Ashe may be invited to a wedding and may have to attend it.He may have also had sex with someone he met two months ago and they may be more than just friends now, and also has no regrets whatsoever.Boy, is Sylvain going to laugh when he tells him.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Series: FE3H Modern AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736701
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Utterly ridiculous and in love

**Author's Note:**

> BOY, DID THIS GET LONG
> 
> Anyways, this was mostly an excuse to write Ashepar smut. No regrets.

Ashe has had a thing for Caspar for a little over two months now.

Ever since they met, there’s something about that man which makes him feel inexplicably attracted, and although he thought it was nothing more than intellectual attraction, he was soon proved wrong.

Caspar is not exactly the brightest man on Earth, but he does have a heart of gold. It compensates for his lack of patience and his tendency to get into fights with other people to try to prove… something, he guesses. His short height, though a complex for Caspar, it’s adorable to Ashe. Having to lower his gaze ever so slightly so they can look each other in the eye, the fact that he has to stand on his tiptoes when Ashe teases him about something and Caspar wants to confront him for it, how Loog – Ashe’s cat – proves to be almost the size of Caspar’s leg when he stands on his hind legs, how Caspar would totally try to fight him too if Ashe ever dares call him ‘cute’, ‘adorable’ or anything along those lines.

Absolutely adorable.

Perhaps it’s too early to call it love, but Ashe definitely likes Caspar. His playful attitude towards cats, talking to them as if he were talking to a child. His, quote, ‘defender of the helpless’ attitude, always willing to stand for weaker individuals. His blue eyes that fill with fear at the noise of thunder and rain crashing against the windows in a deafening way. His messy blue hair, his more high-pitched voice, his muscular arms (Ashe is so damn _weak_ for Caspar wearing sleeveless shirts). Everything.

However, he wasn’t expecting **this** to happen when Caspar knocked on his door that afternoon.

He doesn’t even know who Dorothea and Petra are (well, he does know, they went to school together, but they were in different classes and he’s never talked to them aside from that time Petra asked him where a book was at the library), but apparently they are getting married and Caspar needs someone to accompany him to the wedding. Ashe is happy to oblige, sure, but he doesn’t say ‘Yes’ straight away. He needs to consider first. So he does, in front of Caspar’s impatient, pleading gaze.

Apparently, everything’s connected and his whole friend group is going to that wedding. Annette and Mercedes met Dorothea in the school choir and became good friends, and they apparently still keep in contact. Felix and Sylvain also know her, used to hang out a lot back in their school days; besides, the two are dating, so they would go together no matter what. Then Ingrid and Yuri, Dorothea’s best friends, confidants and her biggest support. Dimitri, on the other hand, met Petra thanks to Claude and Edelgard, and they soon bonded over their workout routine, becoming good friends in a short time. And lastly, Dedue. Ashe has seen enough to know that he’s going to go as Dimitri’s partner. Those two have been pinning for years already and the whole group is getting desperate and making bets back and forth, Ashe included.

Then there’s Claude’s friend group, who, by a random series of coincidences, will also be there (Hilda for being good friends with Dorothea, Marianne for being Hilda’s girlfriend, Claude for being close with Petra…).

Well, at least he won’t be alone.

The bad side has to be the teasing. Sylvain would for sure start teasing him as soon as Caspar opens that big mouth of his. Knowing him, he would surely say something like they’ve been dating for Goddess knows how long (Ashe wishes that were true) and put him on the spot, victim to Sylvain’s incessant teasing.

On the other hand, the teasing would soon be forgotten when they set foot in one of Brigid’s beaches. Ashe has seen enough pictures to know how they look like, read enough on the Internet and in books at the library to almost smell the salt and feel the sea breeze hit him in the face like a slap. He’s also read about the exotic flowers that grow there, the food too, and Ashe is a sucker for those two things. Tempting indeed.

Soon, the positive aspects start outnumbering the negative ones.

Ashe says yes, and soon enough he has Caspar clinging to his neck, endless ‘Thank you!’s falling from his lips. The couch is not exactly big enough for the both of them, Ashe has a hard time trying to fit there with Caspar.

And then Caspar’s lips are over his.

It doesn’t take long until Ashe loses track of time. This is crazy, this is bad, this isn’t something he should be doing. They’ve known each other for less than three months, they don’t know each other that well… Yet he can’t bring himself to stop this, to feel guilty.

He isn’t a bad person for wanting this as much as Caspar seems to want it, right?

At some point they move from the couch, Caspar’s fingers are digging in his hips and his feet are off the floor. Ashe clings to his shoulders for dear life, his legs wrap around his slim waist, and he has to stop so he can breathe properly. Caspar has only been at his house twice, yet he seems to know the exact location of Ashe’s bedroom with no need for directions.

Thankfully, Loog is not sleeping in his bed like he usually is. It would be awkward otherwise.

Caspar tries (and fails, fails miserably) to open the bedroom’s door while carrying him, and Ashe can’t help but giggle because Goddess, he’s adorable.

“Put me down” Ashe has to ask, he’s not going to risk being dropped because Caspar is trying to impress him… or whatever he’s doing. Caspar complies, but her mouth doesn’t go too far away. Warmth starts pooling inside his stomach, he worries at his lower lip when Caspar’s hot mouth lands on his neck. Ashe’s attempt of suppressing a sigh fails so horribly it’s almost comical.

The hands squeezing his waist force another sigh out of his mouth, and he wonders how long he’s going to last until he’s begging for it.

Ashe kicks the door to slam it shut when they’re inside and Caspar kisses him again. Hungry, more eager than before. Ashe almost wants to laugh at his impatience, but it’s not something he can do when he’s busy trying to find the hem of Caspar’s shirt. The back of his knees hits the end of the bed seconds after he manages to get the sleeveless shirt off the other’s body.

And when he feels bare, exposed, Caspar stops.

“Hey” Caspar speaks between uneven breaths, voice hoarse, hands shaking a little where they’re holding onto Ashe’s waist. “Are you a hundred percent sure? Like, of course I want you! But if you don’t, that’s fine! I’ll just, pick up my stuff and leave and I’ll see you in two days to go to the airport!”

Ashe’s fingers bury themselves in the blue hair, a firm grip, and he keeps his gaze fixed on Caspar’s as he talks.

“Silly” Their foreheads are together (Ashe has to crouch a little for it), their noses brush ever so slightly. His hands move lower to cup Caspar’s cheeks. He can feel the skin warming up, cheeks flushed under his touch. “Why would I take off your clothes if I didn’t want you?”

The laugh escaping from Caspar’s mouth after that denotes realization.

“Right, right! You’ve got a point” And he lowers his head, avoiding Ashe’s gaze. He’s not stuttering, but his fast speech and the way his muscles tense up under Ashe’s hands give him away.

His lips press against Caspar’s forehead and Ashe speaks in a tone so gentle it sends shivers down the other’s spine.

“Are you nervous, by any chance?”

“Well, I…” Caspar sighs and his grip on Ashe’s waist tightens. Ashe’s lips curl into a smile. “… Yeah, yeah I am”

Ashe is sweet, delicate, gentle by nature, has been since childhood, when he would take the insects from his garden and released them into the wild instead of killing them; something he keeps doing. Not only animals, but he’s also gentle with people. Gentle with Caspar.

“Are you sure you can keep going?” He doesn’t use the word ‘want’. Caspar has already made it clear that he wants to do this with him, but wanting and actually being able to are two different things.

Caspar nods after two, three seconds of hesitation, eyes fixed on his feet.

“Use your words” Ashe manages to avoid sounding demanding, his voice still soft and dovelike. If they are going to go through with this, he wants to be completely sure.

The grunt that comes from the bottom of Caspar’s throat is satisfactory. It takes him off guard when Caspar hides his face on his neck and breathes in. Whether it is to calm his nerves or because he likes Ashe’s natural scent, it doesn’t matter. It still brings a giggle out of Ashe, and Caspar seems to get a little braver upon hearing him, nuzzling Ashe’s neck a bit and muttering the words ‘I am’ against his skin.

This is ridiculous. They are ridiculous. But Ashe has stopped making up excuses as to why they shouldn’t be doing this (they barely know each other, it’s too soon, he should let Caspar take him to dinner first…). He is ridiculous. So is Caspar. So why shouldn’t they be ridiculous together?

The mattress dips when Ashe sits at the edge of the bed, leaving Caspar with no shelter, no neck to hide his face on.

Thumbs caress Caspar’s cheekbones, Ashe’s green eyes are looking at him like he’s some kind of precious treasure. Caspar is no genius, but he’s certain that his cheeks are redder than Edelgard’s favorite dress right now. Which is a lot.

“You have no experience, I assume?”

“Do you?” There’s slight disappointment in Caspar’s tone. Ashe is glad he can prove his thoughts wrong.

“I have only ever done this by myself”

The corners of Caspar’s mouth rise ever so slightly, yet Ashe can still notice such a small change. Another giggle, Ashe pats the mattress next to him. Caspar takes the hint.

It’s his own apartment, yet Ashe’s never felt more at home than right now, when he’s laying on his side, Caspar’s lips over his and their hands traveling all over each other’s bodies. He’s never ever pictured himself being this… wild, eager, craving for more. Yet he’s there, at his most primal, kissing someone whom he’s known for months only like his life depends on it.

Maybe it does, who knows.

It’s a shame, really. He changed the bed sheets just yesterday, and he’s going to have to change them again in a few hours, but some sacrifices need to be made. So Ashe stops that train of thought right there, jerks off his shoes, and Caspar imitates him as soon as he notices. It takes him several seconds to do so, too busy kissing Ashe, letting his hands roam under his hoodie, getting rid of the annoying piece of navy blue cloth eventually, throwing it to some corner of the room.

Hi overexcitement is certainly adorable.

“Cute” Ashe mutters. A part of him is sure that Caspar’s too busy, too lost to even hear him; another part, though, secretly wishes for Caspar to hear him.

The latter wins. Caspar hears him, pinches his sides hard as a form of ‘revenge’, and Ashe just giggles again.

“I’m **not** cute” Caspar emphasizes the second word so much that Ashe can’t help but think he’s adorable. “And I’m not little either!”

“I never called you that!”

“Oh, please!” Caspar rolls over, positions himself over Ashe, arms framing his face and one leg on either side of his body. “You have that look in your eyes. You were gonna say that!”

“Were?” Ashe feels brave enough to talk back, eyebrow rise included. “Who says I’m not going to say it still?”

“Oh, a brave one, I see” Caspar laughs out loud, sits comfortably on Ashe’s lap before he keeps talking. “I like it”

The man over him is the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He’s exactly like Ashe had imagined under all those clothes, his arms look strong enough to hold him down and restrain him too. His chest is rising and lowering; Ashe wants to put his hands over it, feel his heartbeat, maybe hear it too. His breathing is uneven from all the previous kissing; the sound is music to Ashe’s ears and he wants to try and get more of those out of him.

Caspar’s hands fall on Ashe’s shoulders, take him out of his fantasy world and Ashe’s eyes found his own.

“I like you”

Ashe takes hold of one of Caspar’s wrists. He smiles against the skin as he presses a kiss on it.

“I had noticed something” The comment grants him a playful punch on the chest. “I like you, too”

“You better!” The smile on Caspar’s face is oh, so big and bright it almost blinds him. He’s glad he has the blinds of his room down. The sun can’t compare to this, it totally pales in comparison. “I would be pissed if you didn’t!”

Ashe knows that Caspar can and will fight him, he’s seen enough to know that much. Over the past weeks he’s beaten up a guy for kicking a puppy on the street, fought an old man in a restaurant so he could take his leftovers to feed the stray cats living nearby, has destroyed Ashe multiple times at arm wrestling whenever he asked for it. But he’s not some kind of beast who only knows how to destroy, he’s kindhearted, cares about the helpless and swears to defend them any chance he gets.

He may not be as strong, or as loud, or a big fan of fighting people no matter the situation, but he has a kind heart too. He’s capable of loving, and right now he wants to love Caspar.

Is it too early to call it love? It may be. Oh, well.

“I really do like you, hope ya know that”

Something inside Ashe switches. He swallows hard, his heart skips a beat and it’s his turn to turn red on the cheeks.

“I… I like you, too. A lot”

The words have barely come out of his mouth when Caspar’s forehead falls over his. He’s sure the other had planned for it to be a loving touch, a gesture of affection maybe, but it feels more like a blow. It doesn’t hurt that much, the pain is bearable, yet Caspar still comes up with multiple apologies for not knowing his own strength.

“Sorry, sorry!” Caspar speaks in between laughs, it’s somewhat complicated to understand him, but Ashe manages. “Damn, it hurts…”

If only Ashe had a dirtier mouth, he would say something witty, much like Sylvain’s shameless one-liners. He doesn’t though, and even if he did, his mind is pretty much clouded to be able to think properly.

“It’s fine, you didn’t hurt me”

“I hurt myself though”

This earns a snort from Ashe. A deep breath, then he’s flipping them off and pressing his lips against Caspar’s hurt brow.

“Better?”

Caspar is mute for a second, then the next a sound of contentment escapes his throat.

“Better” It’s the final answer. Then, Caspar continues. “Kiss me?”

And he does. He kisses Caspar again, but this time it’s not a mess, teeth crashing sometimes and lots of accidental lip biting. It’s sluggish, sweet. Even when Caspar tries to go for more Ashe is there to slow down the pace again. He doesn’t seem to be one for delicate, slower touches; Ashe is more than happy to teach him if that’s the case.

“Ashe…” It sounds more like a whine than a moan, and Ashe feels oddly proud of that. “… Baby”

Caspar is a man of actions rather than words, not like he needed any confirmation to know. His hands, the same ones that caress small animals tenderly as if the are going to break under his touch, the same ones that are hardened and calloused due to continuous workouts at the gym, run all over Ashe’s body. Down his sides, grip his hips, grab his thighs possessively, touch anywhere they can reach.

“You’re wearing too much” Caspar’s complain sounds like whining once again.

“I could say the same to you”

Caspar’s lips are hot against his neck while his hands get busy popping the button of Ashe’s pants open, groaning when he fails to find the zipper at first.

If Ashe had to describe him with just two words, he would say ‘Overexcited puppy’.

Both their pants fall to the floor with a hollow sound.

Ashe simply stares down for a few seconds, watching, contented, as Caspar all but _devours_ him. He must feel him staring, since his movements stop. Mouth still attached to the side of his neck, eyes looking up at Ashe with something that resembles innocence, probably even feeling himself blush, Caspar is the embodiment of ‘adorable’.

“You are so needy” Ashe chuckles. Caspar looks ready to combust, red to his ears, and he can tell there’s thousands of apologies at the ready. “I like that, don’t worry”

“I’m always needy for you. Just for you”

Those words are said absentmindedly, it’s possible that Caspar doesn’t even know he just said that, too lost in his own bliss. That possibility, however, doesn’t last long; Ashe swears Caspar stops breathing for a second or two after realization hits him like a truck and he detaches his mouth from Ashe’s neck to speak properly.

“Caspar, I… that was…” It’s hard to put into words what he wants to say, even though it’s quite simple. Ashe is grateful, more than that even. Words like that make him feel cherished, wanted.

Again, maybe it’s too early to say the word ‘love’, but Ashe doesn’t care. Now even less than he did before.

“Yeah, sorry. That was weird, I know”

“No, what I mean is…”

“I won’t say it again, promise”

“No, you idiot!” Ashe is not mad, not at all. He just wants Caspar to listen and stop assuming. “I like it. I told you I like you, didn’t I?”

“But as in,” Caspar bites his tongue, doubting what words he should use. “like-like?”

Ashe smiles. Honest, welcoming. He wants to kiss this stupid man senseless right there and then.

“Like-like?” Ashe repeats, trying his best not to start giggling. Caspar’s question was serious, he needs to keep his composure as well. “More than just that, I would say”

“More?” Caspar’s confusion seems genuine. “As in… love?”

Hearing those words from Caspar’s mouth feels different than when it’s just an idle thought running through his mind, a soft voice that speaks the words into existence.

It’s what he needs to be a hundred percent sure of what he feels.

“Yes” Caspar takes a while to process that simple word coming out of Ashe’s mouth. “Yes, I do love you”

“I…” Breathe in, breathe out. Caspar needs it. Then, he continues. “I love you, too”

Ashe does giggle this time. Now that everything is all settled, that he’s come to terms with those feelings tangled inside his chest, forming knots, maybe they can finally go through with this.

He kisses Caspar’s shoulder. The muscle tenses under his touch, hard from all the training he undergoes on the daily. Caspar just closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy, tries his best to restrain himself, to let Ashe do his thing and save his energy for later.

“Baby…” It’s the second time Caspar mutters that word this evening. The first time it was low, barely a whisper, and Ashe is sure Caspar thinks he didn’t hear that (he did). This time, however, it’s a louder sigh. Ashe shudders at the nickname. “Baby, please…”

Having a man like him going boneless, melting under his mouth, his hands, it feels like a gift from the Goddess. The fingers running through his silver locks and the hot breath against his ear are getting him so worked up so quickly it’s embarrassing.

“Caspar” Ashe whispers against his throat, lips barely touching the Adam Apple. Two can play this game. “Sweetheart”

Satisfaction takes over him upon hearing Caspar groan at the pet name. He probably doesn’t think it fits him, all loud and mighty, but for Ashe it suits him just right. He can feel his restless pulse under his lips when they land on the side of his throat, over a prominent vein.

“Don’t…”

 _Don’t call me that_ , it’s probably the full sentence.

“No, not happening”

Another groan. Ashe smiles in triumph.

They need to move a little, settle in the middle of the bed, to be more comfortable. Caspar is so responsive to each and every one of his caresses that it seems he might cum right there and then, Ashe feels it when he goes down on him, looks up and sees the mess that is Caspar. His thighs are trembling slightly, his head propped up in fluffy pillows, hands grabbing the sheets so hard they might tear.

A beautiful picture. So, so beautiful. And all his.

“Sweetheart, dear” Ashe mutters against his stomach, the happy trail of hair tickling him on the chin. He wonders whether Caspar’s face is bright red because he’s so close to his erection or because of his words.

It’s probably a combination of both.

Caspar’s eyes close in bliss, he throws his head back and tries his best to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, not letting this – the sight, the words, everything – get to him.

“I…” Words don’t come easy, muffled against the back of his hand, but Caspar tries. “Fuck, I want you. I want you so much”

“I know”

And just like that, Caspar’s underwear gets discarded and a high-pitched moan escapes his lips when Ashe takes him into his mouth, warm, soft lips wrapped around his length. He bites his lower lip so hard he’s afraid it might draw blood. Ashe’s hands keep him in place, hold his thighs down to avoid any movements and Caspar would be lying if he said he’s not on cloud nine right now.

“Ashe! Ashe, baby…” He manages to speak in between desperate moans, his voice at the verge of breaking.

He doesn’t know where to hold onto. He’s not some savage to tear up the guy’s bed sheets, so they’re out of the question. He tries to put them over his eyes, cover them, but he’ll be damned if he misses the show. They finally find the much needed support in the back of Ashe’s head, makes sure not to grab it too tight and hurt him accidentally. Ashe lets him, of course he does, he has earned that much trust from him.

“You’re so good, so cute” Ashe’ voice is hoarse when he stops and comes up to get some air. His green eyes find Caspar’s blue ones. “You are beautiful, dear. So beautiful”

Caspar is past the point of caring about being called ‘cute’, he just holds onto Ashe.

“Are you alright? We can stop if…”

“Don’t you _dare_ leave me like this” His voice comes out as desperate between ragged breaths.

If Caspar were to cum just by his words and some touches, Ashe would be the proudest man on Earth. He is just as excited as Caspar is, but now this isn’t about him, it’s about the man before him, the mess that he is at the moment. Judging by his eyes, turning glassier by the minute, and his hands, weak where they tug at his hair, his wish might come true.

“Baby, I…”

“I know” Ashe gives him a small kiss on his hip, acknowledging his state, how on edge he must be. “Will you let me?”

“Please!”

That needy whimper is all it takes for Ashe to resume his work after staring for a few (a lot of) seconds, trying to take into the sight in front of him, carve it into his memory. He really can’t have enough of this man, probably never will.

Now, Caspar prides himself on being tough as nails. He’s capable of lifting heavy weights without breaking a sweat, once he even tried to find out how many cats he could hold at the same time before it got too much (it’s seven, he can lift seven cats at the same time) and, unlike Ferdinand, he’s never cried while watching a movie, not even once. Titanic got close, but he didn’t shed a single tear.

Truth is, he might not be as tough as he originally thought. He certainly wasn’t ready for this, Ashe’s eyes full of lust, of desire, taking his length into his mouth slowly but surely, evidently inexperienced yet eager at the same time.

His grip on the silver locks tightens, and the sharp pain makes Ashe moan around him. He’s vocal, so very vocal, moans as loud as he can without worrying about what Ashe told him days ago, that the walls are thin and that he even has singing contests with Annette and Mercedes, his friends and coworkers who happen to live next door, every night when they shower at the same time. He can’t help but keep moaning, saying things like _‘Yeah, like that”_ or _‘More’_.

Ashe is as warm and welcoming as ever, so gentle too. The prettiest, softest lips in the world dragging through his skin, tongue flat against the side. It’s no surprise that he’s so close in mere seconds.

“Fuck, baby… Baby, I’m close! So close…” He sounds shaky, a little hesitant, utterly wrecked. Ashe sucks harder, proud of himself for being able to turn him into nothing but blurred pleas and curses muttered under his breath.

When Caspar has finally reached his limit, Ashe takes him out of his mouth, hesitating for a second deciding whether to spit of swallow. He goes for the latter, then sits up and breathes deep through his nose. Caspar props himself up on his elbows, reaches out one of his hands, brushing a stray lock of gray hair behind Ashe’s ear, trying his best to be gentle.

“That was…” He stops there, not knowing what word to use to describe this. Intense, maybe, would be appropriate. “… Damn”

Ashe would laugh, but he doesn’t. Not now. He will later, when they’re done. Instead, he grabs Caspar’s hand before it moves too far away from his face. He makes it his duty to kiss every knuckle thoroughly. It’s intimate, one of those displays of affection Ashe seems to like so much.

“Fuck…” He’s lost count of how many profanities Caspar has said in the last thirty minutes. Not like it matters. “You’re going to be the death of me”

“I love you” Ashe speaks without thinking. He doesn’t fully realize what he’s said until a moment later, letting go of Caspar’s hand when he does.

A blush is covering his cheeks, Ashe can feel it, feel the heat rising to his face. He’s not used to saying those three words, hasn’t said them in a long while; since he moved from his house into his own apartment, alone. He’s always said them in a platonic way, too, to his closest friends and his family (adoptive father, brother and his little siblings), never romantically. This is all so foreign to him, a little embarrassing considering he’s twenty-one years old and has no romantic experience.

His eyes look for Caspar’s face to see if he’s red too. He is. Not surprising, but it still brings a smile to his face. Caspar smiles too, and he knows it’s okay when they both laugh.

Utterly ridiculous. They’re utterly ridiculous and in love.

“Do you…” Caspar is still trying to normalize his breathing. His voice is thick with uneasiness. “Should we keep going?”

“Do you want to?”

“Damn, yes” The answer comes in less than a second.

“Is there something… I mean, you…” Ashe is not even sure what he wants to ask at this point. Caspar lands a hand on one of his thighs, not squeezing or grabbing, just staying there, providing him with some human warmth. “What do you want to do?”

Caspar proves to be quite the tranquilizer.

Ashe knows this man is not good with words, especially now that he’s in that state, when he just had an orgasm and has an even harder time expressing what he wants clearly. He still manages somehow, and Ashe is impressed.

“I wanna be inside you. Wanna… wanna make love to you” Those words roll out of Caspar’s tongue so easily it’s shivery. “Wanna see your face, too”

The sound of his heartbeat is so loud Ashe is afraid Caspar might be able to hear it. His ears are pounding too, his face is so warm he’s sure he¡s going to break a sweat soon. The knot in his throat makes it hard for him to swallow.

It’s fine. It’s Caspar, he can do this. They can do this.

“Yeah, sorry, maybe that was way outta line…”

“I want that too”

Breath in, breath out. Caspar’s fingers get close to the edge of Ashe’s underwear. He hasn’t realized how hard he is until now, was too busy focusing on Caspar and his pleasure, not his own.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright…” Caspar looks lost for a second. “… Where’s the lube?”

“Oh, yes! That!”

The bottle is half-empty in the first drawer of the bedside table. Maybe he should buy another one, just to make sure he doesn’t run out of lube at the most inconvenient moment. He adds it to his ‘To-do’ list for later. For now, he opens the bottle, hands it to Caspar and steers himself for what’s to come.

This is a sight he definitely likes. The transparent, slippery liquid that Caspar so carefully warms up in his hand, his eyes going from the lube coating his fingers to look at him, sitting on his lap and getting rid of his own underwear in anticipation, spreading his legs to make Caspar’s job a little easier. The restlessness in Caspar’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed when he talks to him, breaks the silence in the room to tell him to stop him any moment if it hurt, a finger already playing with his rim, his muscles relaxing upon hearing those words.

It’s quite obvious that Caspar is trying his best to be sweet, go slow, act gentle like Ashe does. And it’s working, he’s doing it so well.

“Does it hurt?”

Ashe shakes his head. It doesn’t. It’s just uncomfortable, but not painful.

Caspar is so focused on him, on the way his body reacts to what he’s doing, on the expressions he makes, looking for any change in his face that may express discomfort, that Ashe’s blushing all over now. He drinks from every single sensation, expression, sound, everything he can get out of Ashe. It’s apparent that he’s enjoying this as much as Ashe is, and there’s something in the way Caspar smiles when he hears Ashe moan and sees him throw his head back that perfectlyshows that he still can’t believe what’s happening, he doesn’t believe the feeling is mutual.

Ashe is too far gone to worry about his expressions, but they must convey how he feels for Caspar to be smiling at him like that. Smile at the show he’s putting on.

“Caspar, dear, sweetie…”

The pet names fall out from his lips absentmindedly, his hands have to find support on Caspar’s shoulders. The finger moves inside him, testing the waters, and Ashe moans as a way to encourage him. His fingers curl, digging into Caspar’s skin; his nails are going to leave marks there, that’s for sure.

“Are you… I mean, can you take another?”

“Please, do”

The intrusion stings a bit, but it’s fine overall. Caspar is trying, really trying, being ever so careful with Ashe (with Ashe’s _body_ ) as if he’s a porcelain doll that will break if treated roughly.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s alright” Caspar’s voice is soft as silk as he speaks, reminds him to breathe, rests his free hand on Ashe’s side for reassurance.

He tries and somehow manages. It’s easy to follow commands when the one giving them out is Caspar. Normally impatient Caspar who’s turned tame in his presence.

“Feels good. You are so good, dear”

Caspar pants heavily at the praise. It’s the most beautiful sound Ashe’s ever heard.

“You feel good too. So fucking good” Caspar answers for the sake of answering, it really isn’t necessary for him to do it. Yet he still does. “Does it hurt?”

“No… No, it doesn’t. Just…” He’s not sure what he’s pleading for, but he still does exactly that. “… please”

And even if he hasn’t really said anything, Caspar nods as if he understands.

His fingers abandon Ashe’s body, leaving him empty and Ashe whimpers even if he is the one who asked for it. He’s eager, just like Caspar must be. He remembers calling Caspar ‘needy’ when they just started and laughs to himself at the irony.

It catches him off guard when Caspar mouths at his chest. He doesn’t suck, lick nor bite, he just stays there, right over where Ashe’s heart is, feeling him. Feeling his skin, slick with sweat and heated up from both, embarrassment and eagerness, closing his eyes to process. He can’t look at Ashe in the eye, not for now at least, he needs a second to compose himself before continuing.

The situation is overwhelming. _Ashe_ is overwhelming.

“I love you so damn much” He murmurs against Ashe’s skin, thinking he won’t hear him because the words are muffled, but still wishing for them to reach Ashe’s ears.

They do.

“Caspar, baby… Goddess, sweetie, I love you, too. I love you so much, I…” At this point, Ashe has to stop. He’s too close to crying. It’s a mix of how impatient he is and how overpowering this whole thing is.

He lets Caspar flip them over. His back hits the mattress, Caspar lies on his side, kisses under his right eye. He would kiss each and every one of Ashe’s freckles if he had the time, but that’s going to have to wait. Ashe turns, lies on his side just like him so they’re face to face. Caspar looks like a mess, blue hair all tousled, drops of sweat falling down his neck and chest too. Ashe stretches out a hand, gets a strayed lock of hair out of his face and places it behind his ear. Just like Caspar had done to him before.

Caspar’s lips are curled into a shy smile when their eyes meet again.

“Show me” Ashe finally speaks. A tear manages to escape, rolls down his cheek, but Caspar catches it with his thumb. “Show me you love me. Just… please, Caspar, please”

Now, Caspar’s never been one for multitasking, but sometimes there is no choice but to do it. So he kisses Ashe, a little sloppy and slow, hungry, and at the same time he reaches out his hand to pick up the bottle of lube, lost somewhere among the sheets. He hands it out to Ashe, wants him to be the one to do the honors, wants to feel his hands coating his length with lube.

Ashe smiles into the kiss and accepts the bottle. Caspar smiles too because he knows.

“Want to take you” Ashe sighs, hand coated with the liquid, reaching out for Caspar’s length.

A curse under Caspar’s breath. Then, silence.

All his attention is focused in the sensations: Ashe’s hands on him, making him impatient, his hot breath against Caspar’s chest while he’s preparing him, sometimes pressing a wet kiss on his throat, his chest, wherever he can reach. The sticky sound of the lube that would be quite gross in any other situation, but now it’s just getting him worked up in anticipation. The air of the room is thick, hot. It smells like sex. It mixes with the scent of Ashe’s hair, tickling his chin and his nose. His hair smells of his favorite mint-scented shampoo.

Mint, just like Ashe’s favorite tea.

Mint, like the color of his eyes.

Mint, refreshing and relaxing like his presence.

Ashe throws the bottle of lube to some corner of the room. It doesn’t matter where it fell, not now. That’s a matter for later. Now Caspar is more focused on the way his legs embrace his hips. Ashe looks up through his eyelashes and Caspar swears this is what paradise must feel like. He distracts himself running his hands down Ashe’s back, gently dragging his nails up and down.

“I love you” Ashe smiles against his chest, then takes Caspar’s member, takes him slowly. “I do, I really do”

The gentle running of nails becomes more intense, they get buried in Ashe’s back. They are both uptight, their muscles tense up at the sensations and all Caspar can do is moan (though it sounds like a mix between a moan and a growl).

Ashe can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of _him_.

“I know… know you do” Caspar responds, and he’s being truthful. He knows Ashe loves him, knows it perfectly, like the back of his hand. “Fuck! Be careful”

“You are not hurting me. You never do”

More cursing. Caspar holds him close, as close as he can. A hand gripping Ashe’s hip, the other keeping him near, heavy breathing close to his ear, and Ashe knows he’s gone. Caspar moves. The rhythm he builds up is slow and steady, the angle is just right. Ashe holds onto Caspar’s shoulders hard, possibly leaving marks of his fingerprints behind, lifts one of his legs a bit to give him better access.

At some point, they start kissing. Caspar can’t keep his lips (nor his hands for that matter) to himself for long, it seems. It’s the way he expresses his love, Ashe has managed to notice it in a short amount of time. He’s better with actions rather than words, and he is also a man with little to no restrains, passionate and all about giving love.

On the other hand, Ashe is better with words, better with the talking. He may be unable to articulate more than a couple of words at a time right now, but it’s different on the daily. His nose is always buried in some book, and lots of things can and have been learned from them; some romantic gestures, a few corny quotes here and there too (still better than Sylvain’s pick up lines though).

They are so different but they still only have eyes for each other.

“Caspar! Oh, dear, you are so good to me”

He wants to add yet another _‘I love you’_ , but he doesn’t. He can’t. Caspar starts picking up the pace and gives a particularly hard thrust. A breathy moan falls from Ashe’s lips at that. Caspar’s fingers dig into his thigh hard, his teeth sink into Ashe’s shoulder and bite. Not hard enough to draw blood or break the skin, but still a hard bite.

“My dear… so good, my dear… Caspar”

“Ashe… Fuck, Ashe!” His name keeps slipping from Caspar’s lips like a mantra. It’s the same for Ashe though, he keeps on repeating the other’s name as if his life depends on it.

Next thing he knows is that Caspar has a hand on his erection and is pumping it at a fast pace. Now, Ashe _very_ _rarely_ curses, but this is one of those occasions in which he does (how could he not?).

Things just feel right. It feels so right he might burst into tears right there and then.

“The death of me, that’s what you are” Even if Caspar is half joking with this one, Ashe doesn’t have the energy to laugh. He would if he could, though.

And he keeps pumping him. Ashe is just glad he has a place to hide his flushed face on Caspar’s chest, his moans muffled there, feeling the other’s lips on the top of his head. It seems he is close. Both are. So he mouths, presses hot, sloppy kisses wherever he can reach, delighting himself with Caspar’s heavy pants and the way he lets out an almost animalistic growl when he comes, making the most out of it, trying to drag the pleasure out for as long as possible. He’s at the edge of coming himself, almost too gone to listen.

Caspar whispers in his ear, short of breath.

“Baby, come on, lemme… lemme do this”

Ashe doesn’t know what he replies to that. Something along the lines of _‘Goddess, yes’_ and _‘Please’_ , maybe a combination or both.

Caspar’s hands are touching him everywhere; fingers curling into his thighs, going down to his calves, teeth nibbling at his ear, tongue dragging, almost burning, across his shoulder, thumb caressing his cheekbone and hands getting damp bangs out of the way so he can stare at his face. And all Ashe can do is take it. Takes it all, takes everything Caspar gives him and then some more until he cums.

‘Right’ doesn’t even begin to describe this.

A couple of minutes pass and all they do is lay on Ashe’s bed. Their breathing is the only thing filling the otherwise silent room. Even with the blinds down, they can tell it’s gotten dark outside, and Ashe wonders just how long they have been at it.

He practically has to beg Caspar to move and help him change the bed sheets, assuring that doing it will only take a minute. He all but pouts, yet still complies. Ashe promises he is going to repay him with a kiss and a cuddle session after they shower. Of course, he’s not just saying it, he goes through with his promises, always does.

And Ashe delivers, flying to the other’s side as soon as they exit the bathroom and Caspar throws himself into his bed.

“That was…” Caspar has his arms behind his head when he speaks. The clean sheets smell like fresh violets, they feel smooth against his legs. “That was something”

“If by ‘something’ you mean incredible, then yes, it was” Ashe indulges in making a witty remark now that he can. Caspar laughs out loud at it.

“Course I mean that! It was just… Wow!”

Now it’s Ashe’s turn to laugh.

“Wow? I thought you were more expressive than that!”

Caspar nudges him playfully in the side, then gets closer to kiss him on the cheek. Soft, adoring, barely a touch against the skin.

He kisses him like he loves him.

“Shut it, will ya? You know I’m no good with this stuff!”

“I know, I know”

And oh, he knows that so, so well.

Caspar must see that he’s about to laugh once again, shuts him up putting his lips over Ashe’s. And they both smile into the kiss because they are all kinds of ridiculous but they are also in love.

Ashe may be invited to a wedding and may have to attend it.

He may have also had sex with someone he met two months ago and they may be more than just friends now, and also has no regrets whatsoever.

Boy, is Sylvain going to laugh when he tells him.


End file.
